


Tribble Tribble Trouble Tribble (a.k.a. Captain Fassbender's Very Bad Week)

by xsilverdreamsx



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Community: mcfassy, M/M, Star Trek AU, challenge: au fest, genre:crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsilverdreamsx/pseuds/xsilverdreamsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people just have a lousy day. For Captain Fassbender, he has a lousy week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tribble Tribble Trouble Tribble (a.k.a. Captain Fassbender's Very Bad Week)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at the McFassy comm on LJ which asked for a Star Trek AU. Beta'ed by the awesome etharei who made this readable and cheered me on. <3  
>  **Disclaimer:** I own none of these guys. Set in some part of the 'verse between ST:DS9 and Nemesis. Also, this is a bit cracky. With some porn.  
>  (ironically, today is the anniversary of Star Trek. Good timing, I suppose.)

It was a very bad week for Captain Michael Fassbender.

When Monday began, he had woken up to his First Officer buzzing his comm badge urgently with a " _You might want to take a look at this yourself, Captain_ " and he had walked into a cargo hold full of fluffy, squeaking tribbles, rolling around in glee as they consumed the shipment of grain meant for Bajor and multiplied in vast, horrible numbers.

On Tuesday, they were on their way to Deep Space Nine for some sort of official event organized by the Federation, chock-filled with stuffy-looking delegates from all over the quadrant, when the shuttle doors _and_ docking bay doors had _both_ gotten stuck, trapping Captain Fassbender in the cramped space between the Federation issued metal deathtrap, and the previously run Cardassian space station. Two hours, three engineers and one pissed off Security Officer later, they finally located the cause of the failure: a lone and very dead tribble from the previous day’s incident, stuck between the circuitry boards.

The Captain couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for the pile of blackened fluff.

He was sorry, however, to have missed the food at the function.

Next, Admiral Janeway had ripped into him and handed him back his own skin, in bits*, in front of the Telasian Ambassador, when he accidentally slept with one of the diplomat’s female, _married_ aides.  
        *metaphorically, of course. Janeway’s cybernetic implants were only delivered a year later, courtesy of an old friend in the Borg hierarchy.

“The aide was _married_.”

"I'm terribly sorry, Admiral, but he hadn't mentioned that at the start, and really--"

The Admiral had gritted her teeth, and spoken in that low, slightly gravelly voice that was rumored to have sent the Borg scattering back into their hidey holes in the Delta Quadrant.

"Captain," the word was dragged out slowly, “The aide was _female_."

"But there was a shaf -- er -- object — er…" his voice trailed off as she eyed him dangerously.

Captain Fassbender clamped his mouth shut.

(In his defence, he hadn't known that the protruding shaft wasn't a dick. He felt that Janeway was being remarkably unfair about the whole matter.)

He checked his calendar.

It was only Wednesday.

Captain Fassbender was almost afraid to pull on his uniform on Thursday.

He did so anyway, and headed to the bridge, already dreading the day ahead. After a few minutes of calm and a few smiles from his crew who happened to be exiting the turbo lift just as he was about to step into it, he could almost believe that his run of bad luck was over.

Then the turbo lift had screeched to a halt between decks 6 and 5.

And then the engineering crew had gotten stuck as they made their way to the turbo lift.

His first officer had insisted that the wires and panels had fallen down and blocked off their paths leading to the turbo lift shaft, and it had taken them a good hour to clear the mess, and another hour to extract the Captain from his predicament. By then he had stripped down to his undershirt and tied his uniform jacket around his waist after the environmental controls in the lift had failed.

By Friday, when the replicator decided to spit out a congealed mess of _something_ instead of his Klingon coffee, Captain Fassbender began to wonder if the universe was playing a ridiculous joke on him. Approaching him slowly as one would a crazed shark, his First Officer cautiously suggested that maybe the Captain needed a break.

After mulling over where he should head to that would avoid him being near any (a) tribbles (b) diplomatic aides with indeterminate gender and (c) Admiral Janeway, the Captain finally decided to head to Risa.

A nice long holiday had looked so pleasant right then. Of course, that would have gone well, had he not accidentally mixed up the departure gates and missed his direct flight to Risa. Short of waiting a whole day to grab the next direct flight (and invite more disasters to his week), the other alternative was to hop on the next flight to Outpost 9, which was the nearest port, and find a shuttle that would take him to Risa.

Unfortunately, Outpost 9 also happened to be the most popular black market trading post, and a pit stop for most of the notorious pirates in the quadrant.

Sharing breathing air with the smelly bipeds from Volta 6 had _not_ been part of his holiday plans. But then again, neither was having his transport carrier hijacked and boarded by Orion slave traders.

The conversation leading up to the attack had gone like this:

"Squawk."

"What?"

"Squawk squawk".

"One moment, my Universal Translator must be broken, I don't understand you-"

"* _Squawksquawksquawksquawwwwk!_ " and then the whole ship had shuddered.  
       *loosely translated as "Stupid stinking human, get the fuck off my tail oh no we're being attacked, help!"

Which was why, when he finally woke up after inhaling whatever horrible gas that had been pumped into the carrier to knock everyone out, he was in no mood to be dealing with a space pirate.

Especially one with ridiculously pretty blue eyes and long lashes, smiling coyly down at him as the Captain looked up from his rather uncomfortable, sprawled position on the floor.

"Well, Captain? I don’t suppose you’d like to share with me what you’re doing in this part of the quadrant?"

Make that a ridiculously pretty blue eyed pirate with long lashes _and_ a Scottish brogue.

Life was terribly unfair to him of late.

The pirate chuckled and lowered his voice. "I'm sure you weren't there for.. " he paused, and licked his lips, eyes travelling down Captain Fassbender’s body, before raising his face to meet his eyes again, " _pleasure_."

Was the bloody pirate _flirting_? With him?

He must have hit his head harder than he thought.

It was when the man reached out with his hand and introduced himself as “Agent McAvoy, Starfleet Intelligence, at your service” that the Captain recognized the name.

“Undercover with the Orion ship until an hour ago, when we successfully stopped their operations when they tried to capture this carrier. Of course,” the agent raised an eyebrow,” you were knocked out for most of it, so I suppose you would have missed it.”

“I could do with less excitement in my life this week, to be quite honest,” Captain Fassbender told him dryly.

The eyebrow rose even higher.

“Well, once we’re done here, I’d be happy to drop you off at the nearest Starbase, Captain Fassbender – “Agent McAvoy paused, mid-sentence, as the Captain held up his hand and interrupted him.

“Please. Just Michael would do at this point, Agent McAvoy.”

The blue eyes twinkled at him mischievously. “Aye then. If that’s the case, then James sounds a lot better than Agent McAvoy, don’t you think?”

\-----------------------------------------

" _Captain? Captain, are you alright?_ " The First Officer’s voice cut through the air. Michael groaned at the interruption, and lifted his head to look for his comm badge somewhere amongst his clothes on the floor.

The push of James's hips into his groin sent another groan tumbling out of his mouth, this time sounding different. Michael leaned down and nipped at the other man's lips, and swallowed his moans as he ground down.

The chirp of the comm badge interrupted them again. " _Captain, we’ve heard of the raid on the carrier. The Prometheus is near enough, we can swing around to pick you up_ ” and Michael nearly thanked all the gods when he saw the shiny silver glint of the badge peeking out from beneath James's vest.

Somewhere between his First Officer asking something completely official and James demonstrating that he was capable of swallowing Michael's dick deeply, he managed to bark out that he was occupied and negotiating something and that he would contact his ship again in a few hours, and turned off the comm badge just as he came noisily down James’s throat.

Minutes later, he was still panting when James straddled his hips and stroked him hard again, before rolling a condom on Michael’s shaft, lifting himself up and then sinking down slowly.

Moans filled the air, hot hot heat surrounding Michael’s cock and body, hips thrusting upwards as James threw back his head and moaned prettily, hands on Michael's chest and mouth, teeth clamped over his neck and biting down as they both came hard enough to pass out.

All in all, it was the start of a very good week for Captain Michael Fassbender.  


\-----------------------------------------

_Q stretched backwards in his imperial-looking chair, which he had conjured up in his continuum. Captain Fassbender was beginning to bore him after a whole week of fun mishaps he had created for the human. The omnipotent being considered leaving the man alone._

_For now._

_After all, he hadn't visited Jean-Luc for a while. Perhaps he'd send the famous Captain Picard back into the past again. That was always good for a few chuckles._


End file.
